Here I Go Again On My Own

With the success of the ‘On the Green’ micro-tour still fresh in my mind and the exciting possibilities of my expanded live set up ringing in my ears, I think it really could be time to give my work as Spaceship the push it deserves.
Thing is, watching Glastonbury et al on the TV I’ve been struck by a couple of things. Firstly a reconfirmation of the almost frightening banality of so much modern guitar music. I’m sure when Chris Martin first decided that the four beats in a bar should each have one note played directly upon them, and there shall be no notes played at any other time, even he didn’t realised what an explosion of turgid, chugging, sub-Joy Division cash-in bands he would spawn. I mean, you have to blame all those other G1 dullards too, Snow Patrol, K*ane and whoever else. I really try not to pay attention, but this morning I heard something by a band called Bombay Bicycle Club, now don’t get me wrong I may be misjudging them on the ten second clip I managed to stomach before destroying the car radio with a single punch, but I couldn’t help but imagine a troop of Top Man scruffy, wrong trousered posh lads trying to monotone coolness at Zane Lowe even though the bassist is grinning ‘cos he can’t believe he’s in the presence of his generation’s John Peel; ‘Yah, we’re, like really influenced by all those bands, y’know like, yah, Editors and, like Editors?’ .’Great!’ says Zane, although even he’s got so SICK of all the same shit that even HE is struggling to maintain enthusiasm for yet another bunch of production line angst.
And they’re all so straight, it’s boring. You don’t have to go on about it, or turn into some Doherty-esque smack-zombie, just LOOK like you know the meaning of the words ‘Rock n’ Roll’. AND the thing with watching Glastonbury on the TV is that you start to dispair when the most energetic, convincing and true performances come from the likes of fifty-odd year old Nick Cave. Like Lauren Laverne said ‘You expect lightening to come out of him, he’s so ELEMENTAL [my caps]’. No one is about to sat that about Iglu and Hartley.
BUT secondly I’m thinking that it aint all doom and gloom brothers and sisters. In the likes of Bat for Lashes or Florence and the Machine there’s a glimmer of hope for the leftfield. I mean, both of the aforementioned have kind of sold themselves out into a bit of a sub-Kate Bush/Bjork/Bonnie Tyler headache, but at least they’re being a bit different and the kids are digging it.
SO with all this buzzing round in my head, and with reports of various co-travellers doing their thing round the festivals that I WANT IN. So I’m gonna try my damndest to get it. ‘Cos the kids deserve more.

Watch this space.

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